


Once Lost but Found Again

by Graendoll



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-07-28 08:11:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20060821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graendoll/pseuds/Graendoll
Summary: Draco left her bed in the middle of the night four months ago and they've been apart ever since. Frankly, he's sick of it.***“Draco Malfoy, stop behaving as though you’re an idiot. I know you have a brain in there. Please elect to use it.”“Good lord, Granger, are you ill? Did you just accuse me of having a brain?”





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This little three chapter ficlet was a self-imposed exercise in pushing my writing style and has been kind of rolling around in my head for a while. Thank you so much to Raven_Maiden and Balancedpadawan for your input and kind words!
> 
> Fair warning - if you are protective of Harry or Ron, please be prepared to have them cast in a slightly less than flattering light in this fic.
> 
> And double thanks to Balancedpadawan for the gorgeous moodboard! As always, you've captured my intent beautifully.
> 
>   


Ever since he’d returned, he’d watched her. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear or chewed on her lip. It was the little things that had always fascinated him, and he found that now, after everything, it was the little things that drew him in. Made it impossible for him to look away. At times like these, his resentment far outweighed his fascination. As he ran his grey eyes over her form, his teeth clenched together so hard he was sure to crack one, she raised up on her toes and kissed the cheek of the absolute idiot grinning down at her, looking for all the world as though he’d won the bloody lottery.

Which he had, of course.

Hermione Granger was the golden girl of the Golden Trio. Any git with half a brain knew she was a prize worth pursuing, which was why he couldn’t really blame the lumbering fool with the shit eating grin on his face as he grabbed a handful of Gryffindor arse.

Draco let out a low growl as he forced himself to focus on the parchment in front of him and ignore the stomach churning display of public affection currently taking place in his peripheral vision. It was bad enough that she’d started seeing Cormac McLaggen, the absolute tosser, but snogging him in public, in full view of _his_ desk seemed downright cruel.

When his quill snapped, sending a spray of ink all over his robes, he decided he’d had enough. Standing abruptly, his chair squeaking in protest at the sudden movement, he grabbed his cloak and stomped past the happy couple, unable to stop himself from sneering at the brunette as he passed. His grey eyes made brief contact with her brown ones and for a moment he thought he saw a flash of sadness, but she broke their gaze before he could determine whether it was real or imagined.

Not as though it mattered. It had been her choice to move on and now they both bloody well had to live with it.

_Nine months earlier:_

_“You can’t just swoop in here, Granger, with your swotty ideas and indecent skirts and take over my_ _—_ _“ he swept his arm dramatically around the demolished cottage as he contemplated the chaos_ _—_ _ “my potion explosion.”_

_She glared at him and brushed her hands self-consciously over her “indecent” skirt before sweeping past him with a toss of her hair. _

_“My skirts have absolutely nothing to do with this investigation, Malfoy.”_

_He snorted and rolled his eyes as she bent at the waist and reached across the mess of destruction that remained of the potioneer’s workbench to poke at a bit of the shattered cauldron with her wand. Her skirts were absolutely relevant to the investigation, especially when they framed her arse so splendidly, completely distracting him. If someone had told him he’d be ogling the uptight Gryffindor on a regular basis six years ago he’d have hexed them half-way to Sunday._

_“This looks odd.”_

_Draco walled off his less than professional thoughts about his obnoxious co-worker and wiped his face clean of any expression before sauntering across the room to peer over her shoulder. Ignoring the slight hitch in her breath as he reached around her to pluck the object she was holding from her hand, he focused his attention on the scrap that had caught her eye._

_“This appears to be nothing more than a piece of parchment, Granger.”_

_She turned to face him, and in an admittedly immature display, he refused to step back to give her room. When she reached for the scrap, he raised his arm above his head, putting the clue out of her reach while he smirked down at her._

_Brown eyes shot daggers at him as she ceased her efforts to grab at the scrap._

_“If you would actually _read_ what’s on the parchment, you prat, you might understand why I find it odd.”_

_“Tsk, tsk. That’s no way to speak with your co-workers.”_

_She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked a hip out before tossing her hair over her shoulder, in a way that was very much specific to Hermione Granger. His smirk grew._

_“Draco Malfoy, stop behaving as though you’re an idiot. I know you have a brain in there. Please elect to use it.”_

_“Good lord, Granger, are you ill? Did you just accuse me of having a brain?”_

_She rolled her eyes and leapt up, ripping the parchment out of his hand while clumsily elbowing him in the ribs on her way down._

_“Bloody hell, witch, watch the elbows.” She ignored him, instead electing to push the parchment scrap into his vision._

_“Look at what this says, Malfoy.”_

_Draco sneered at her while he rubbed his ribs__—__ the woman was _boney—_ and read the scrawled writing on the scrap of paper. _

_“ -lohov li-.” Quirking an eyebrow, he looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Brilliant. Absolutely amazing, Granger. You’ve cracked the case through the discovery of gibberish.”_

_And annoyed sigh fluttered the bottom of the parchment._

_“Dolohov lives, Malfoy. Don’t be dense.”_

_“Possibly.” He conceded before pursing his lips in mock thought. “Or Dolohov lies. Or Dolohov likes little boys. Or Dolohov literally never knew when to shut up.” He pushed her hand away and stepped around her, returning his attention to the rubble. “All true statements, by the way.”_

_“How vile.”_

_Draco glanced over his shoulder and saw a look of horror on Granger’s delicate features. He forgot, sometimes, that although she’d fought the same war he had and seen her fair share of horrible things, her memories didn’t include detailed information on the preferences of England’s darkest wizards. Shuttering his expression, he turned back to pursue the remnants of the exploded cauldron._

_“Indeed.”_

_Wand waving, he cast an illuminating spell over the remnants of whatever potion was being brewed when it exploded, killing the creator and sending bits and pieces of the cauldron through the walls of the neighboring shop. While the DMLE was standard to these types of incidents, the amount of destruction and the lingering hint of dark magic had resulted in Draco being called to the scene, followed quickly thereafter by the swottiest Auror known to Wizarding kind._

_The purple swirl of magic that oozed out of the destruction had him frowning, knowing that the strong response from the spell didn’t bode well. There was indeed traces of dark magic amongst the destruction, and this, combined with the small scrap of parchment Granger had recently waved in his face, had him cataloguing concerns in the back of his mind while he followed the purple smoke to its concentration point._

_“What have you found?”_

_Draco ignored the question, instead lowering himself to get closer to the ground so he could investigate the object the spell he’d cast was focusing on. With a quick flick of his wrist, he cast a finite incantatum and levitated the small glass sphere up to his eye level._

_“Is that a prophecy? I thought they’d all been destroyed?”_

_He smirked. “Yes, by you and yours if I remember correctly.”_

_She swatted the back of his head and he glared up at her. “I’m not the Weasel, willing to suffer your abuse in the hopes for a snog, Granger. Keep your bloody hands to yourself.”_

_She reddened and looked away from him, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth in such a way that made him think that perhaps he’d hurt her feelings. _

_“I don’t snog Ronald, I’ll have you know. Haven’t in some time. Not that it’s any of your business.”_

_“Hmmm.” Draco studied her blush for a moment and watched her fidget with her skirt before abruptly turning her gaze back to him. A platinum eyebrow went up in a silent question before she spoke again._

_“Honestly, Malfoy. Focus. We need to get this to the Ministry and have it evaluated.”_

_“Right.” He shoved the glowing orb into her hands and stood, brushing off the knees of his trousers. “Although,” he paused and cocked his head at her, “perhaps I should take that back given your propensity for destruction.”_

_She stuck her tongue out at him before disapparating, leaving him with a satisfied smirk on his face. _

The lifts in the Ministry were, perhaps, the slowest thing in the world. Draco sucked on his cheeks while he waited, contemplating the numerous ways he could slowly dismember Cormac McLaggen while also avoiding being thrown in Azkaban. How the numpty had managed to worm his way into Granger’s good graces he would never know. But the idiot had been her beau since Draco’s return two months ago. He had assumed, initially, that it was a ploy, some game Granger was playing to hurt him or make him jealous. But the longer it went on the more he couldn’t help but wonder if she just genuinely liked the twit.

This theory also had the unfortunate side-effect of lowering his opinion of the witch, something that felt inherently _wrong_ somehow. His original hope was that he could work with this revised assessment of her intelligence to assist in his efforts to move _on_, but sadly it only reinforced his somewhat insane desire to shake some sense into her.

“Draco?”

Good lord. Speaking of the she-devil.

Fortifying himself with a deep breath, he smoothed his features before turning his head to look down at the woman who was risking life and limb to approach him.

“What do you want, Granger?”

She didn’t answer immediately, instead looking at him as though he were some sort of puzzle. His signature sneer began to grow the longer she stared.

“Get on with it, I don’t have all day. Not all of us have time to _socialize_ at work.”

She colored and he knew he’d driven his point home.

“I wanted to know if you’d had a chance to review my report on the –“

“The Neely investigation. Yes.” He raised a brow and looked down his nose at her. “I _do_ know how to do my job.”

“Of course. I know that.” Her eyes searched his face, but he kept his expression neutral, resisting the urge to grab her, press her up against the wall, and snog her senseless. His emotionless response began to make her uncomfortable, if the blush on her cheeks was any indication. She smoothed her robes and took a quick step backward. “Right, well, I’m off then. Have a good night.”

Luckily, the lift chose that moment to stop and open for him, allowing him to make his departure without saying anything or having to stand awkwardly while she continued to back away and return to her bloody boyfriend. Draco wanted nothing more than to lash out at the wall of the contraption, but instead he utilized his occlumency skills to slowly build a perimeter around the screaming, crying part of himself that recognized that _his bloody witch_ was getting away from him.

What he needed that stubborn voice in his head to understand was that she was already _gone._ And until he was able to explain to her the circumstances around their separation, it was likely she’d never return.

* * *

“Potter.”

The Chosen One looked up from his desk and blinked a few times before sighing in resignation.

“What can I do for you, Malfoy?”

Draco shut the door to Potter’s office and planted his hands on the desk before leaning over it.

“Explain to me why the investigation I completed nearly _two months_ ago is still open?”

Green eyes stared into his before Potter turned away.

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I mean, no. The investigation remains open for reasons I can’t disclose to you.”

Draco sneered. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

Potter just shrugged and went back to his scratching.

Draco resisted the urge to punch the bespectacled Auror in the nose. When Potter had approached him all those months ago and disclosed the nature of the investigation they needed to complete, Draco had been suspicious. Leery of having his previous association with the Death Eaters leveraged for the purpose of what at the time appeared to be a wild goose chase had not sat well with him, but Potter and the Weasel had made a very strong argument for getting him to agree to the efforts.

What he hadn’t expected, and what he had, in fact, resented and regretted ever since, was having been sworn to secrecy until the investigation was officially closed. Without the stamp of approval, literally, from the head Auror and the Ministry, Draco was incapable of sharing the details of his efforts with anyone aside from the git sitting across from him.

Unfortunately, ‘anyone’ included a certain frizzy haired witch who he had just abandoned in front of the lifts. Had he not been bound by an Unbreakable Vow, Draco would have disclosed the entire thing to her months ago. But he had miscalculated, a shameful mistake for the Slytherin Prince (even he could admit that), and had been outsmarted by the Golden Boy and his ginger side kick. What he’d thought would be a commitment of a few days, a week at most, had dragged out over months. He’d been forced to cut off all contact with anyone not directly involved in the investigation and the Unbreakable Vow he’d made had prohibited him from speaking about why he had left, where he had been, or what he’d been doing until the damn case was closed.

And it _was_ closed. It should have been. It needed to be. Draco had to be able to crawl out of the mess he’d found himself in upon his return. He couldn’t bear the idea of his life going on as it was now. Especially not after having had a taste of something so wonderfully different.

“Was there anything else, Malfoy?”

Pulling himself from his ruminations, Draco glared down at the dark head of hair.

“You can’t keep the case open forever. Eventually, you’ll have to officially close it. And then what will you do?”

Potter looked up, a frown on his face, green eyes glittering with anger.

“Are you threatening me?”

Draco simply lifted a brow before casually sweeping a stack of papers from his supervisor’s desk and turning on heel, leaving the door open as he exited.

_“I cannot believe you.” _

_Draco quirked a brow at his lunch companion, amused by her frustration._

_“What part of it is so surprising to you, Granger? The fact that I managed to get us out of the staff meeting, or the fact that you went along with it?”_

_She blushed into her coffee, taking a large gulp and lowering the oversized mug, showing off a fine milk moustache._

_“I know you think I’m a habitual rule breaker, but it does actually make me terribly uncomfortable.”_

_He snorted._

_“I have a hard time believing that. You’re telling me the witch that was responsible for the creation of Dumbledore’s Army gets anxiety over skipping out on a staff meeting?”_

_“That was different!” she hissed, leaning over the table. “The entirety of the wizarding world was at stake and I made a choice.”_

_He swallowed, remembering his own choices at that age and suddenly wished he hadn’t brought it up. The fire in her eyes was quickly replaced by guilt._

_She reached across the table. “Oh, Draco. No –”_

_He jerked his hand away and cut her off._

_“We both know I was a complete shit, Granger. Still am, obviously, since I’m forcing you to skip out on work to get a coffee.” Having lost the lighthearted mood he’d been in earlier when he’d convinced her to skip off with him, he stood, tossing several galleons on the table._

_“Let’s get you back to the office before I taint you any further.”_

_The brunette witch studied him for a moment before standing, putting herself directly in front of him. _

_“You aren’t…tainting me. You aren’t the same boy you were at Hogwarts, you know.” _

_His grey eyes searched hers, looking for answers to a question he wasn’t even sure he’d asked. At some point in the last several weeks of working together on this blasted prophecy investigation, she’d softened towards him and he had absolutely no idea what he’d done to deserve it._

_“I’m still me, Granger. Pureblood git, spoiled brat, absolute prick to your friends.”_

_A small smile played around her mouth._

_“Be that as it may, that’s not _all_ you are Malfoy.” She leaned up on her toes and put her mouth next to his ear. “In fact–” he shuddered at the whisper of her breath on his neck– “I find I quite like this version of you.”_

* * *

“Why the fuck are we here?”

“Nice language.”

Draco gave his friend a two-finger salute before downing the shot of…something blue he had never heard of. Why he had let Blaise drag him out to Muggle London of all places was beyond him, but he had, and now he was here, wanting to be literally anywhere else.

“Just answer the question,” he said. “Are you dating Muggles now?”

Blaise gave him a look. “Not all of us are quite so liberated, Malfoy. Some of us are still expected to marry a nice pureblood girl and have lots of sex and babies.”

“Disgusting.”

“Agreed, but there you have it.”

“I do hate repeating myself, Blaise, so be a dear and answer the bloody question.”

Zabini held his shot glass aloft in a mock salute before downing a shot of the same blue concoction Draco had just consumed. He slammed it down and swept his arm in a wide arc over the floor of the dance club.

“We are here, my dear platinum friend, to get you laid.”

Draco cringed and shook his head.

“Absolutely not, Zabini. I don’t need you plucking birds out of the crowd for me to shag.”

“You need _something_. You’ve been in a right state since you got back from whatever mysterious adventure you went on, and I, for one, am sick of it.”

Draco ran his finger over the rim of the shot glass and contemplated the aquamarine remains. He hadn’t ever attempted to speak with Blaise about his disappearance, and frankly it never occurred to him the other man would care. They were friends, of course, but it was hardly a shock when one of them disappeared for days or weeks at a time. A two-month absence was notable, but certainly nothing to be worried about. Draco was certain Zabini was more concerned about his current mental state than where he might have gone.

“I’m not interested in a casual shag, Blaise.”

The other man’s eyes narrowed.

“What about a less than casual shag?”

Draco looked over the crowd before shrugging.

“Certainly not with anyone here.”

He felt Blaise’s eyes on him and reminded himself that Zabini was smarter than he appeared.

“What if we left? Where, exactly, would we have to go to get you happily fucked?”

Draco smirked, refusing to fall for the trap.

“Nice language.” He narrowed his gaze, a thought occurring to him. “Why the sudden interest in seeing me off with some female?”

Blaise shrugged.

“As I said, I’m tired of your mood. You were borderline ebullient before you left to Merlin knows where, and then after two months of not a single word, you come back and act as though the Dark Lord has returned.” His friend’s face showed an expression of genuine concern. “Honestly, Drake, I haven’t seen you like this since sixth year. Where did you go?”

Draco sighed and ran his hand through his hair, completely destroying the perfectly coifed locks.

“I can’t tell you.”

“We’ve been friends forever, you can and you should.”

“No, I mean– “ Draco paused and cleared his throat. “I literally _can’t_. I took an Unbreakable Vow.”

“Why would you do that, you absolute git?”

“I miscalculated.”

Blaise snorted. “Massive understatement, mate.”

“I wasn’t anticipating the circumstances to last so long, and by the time I returned it had all gone to shit anyway.” Draco flagged down the cocktail waitress and ordered more drinks while he pretended not to see Blaise’s concerned stare.

“What had all gone to shit?”

“Her.”

“Her who?”

“Sod off, Zabini. What difference does it make?”

“It obviously makes enough of a difference to have you moping about like some Hufflepuff halfwit.”

Draco ground his teeth together and resisted running his hand through his hair a second time. Pulling on his occlumency skills, he slowly relaxed his jaw and met his friend’s curious gaze.

“I am not moping. My absence simply gave the woman an opportunity to sift through her feelings and discover, unsurprisingly, that she was better off with someone less…me. I am simply annoyed at having been so clearly misinformed. You know how I hate being proven incorrect.” He quirked a blond brow at the man across from him in an effort to exude nonchalance as the cocktail waitress placed several more of the blue concoctions on their table. “No harm done, just a bruised ego.”

Blaise studied him for a moment before shrugging and reaching for the shot.

“Well, there certainly is enough of your ego to go around.”

Draco smirked and downed another drink while he quietly shoved his memories of a bushy haired Muggle-born into the corners of his mind.

_“What is this?”_

_Hermione raised her head from the parchment she was reading as he entered her office, a small smile playing about her lips._

_“Good morning to you as well, Mr. Malfoy.”_

_Draco felt the corners of his mouth quirk up at her greeting. _

_“Granger.” He tossed the small volume he’d found on his desk that morning onto the stack of parchment piled precariously on the corner of the large table she was currently studying at. “I found this on my desk this morning, next to a rather delicious concoction labeled ‘caramel macchiato’. Would you know anything about that?”_

_She blushed and reached for the slender, leather-bound book. _

_“I went to a Starbucks on the way here this morning and thought you might enjoy something different.”_

_“A what now?”_

_He watched Hermione lean back in her chair and hold the volume to her chest. Tossing her hair, she tried to look defiant, but he could see the cracks in her armor. The woman was nervous. How intriguing._

_“It’s a…Muggle coffee shop.”_

_The source of her anxiety was suddenly apparent, and he gracefully lowered himself into the chair across from her on the other side of the round table, stretching his legs out so that his feet brushed the hem of her robes._

_“Muggle coffee is delicious. I demand more of it.”_

_Her small smile grew into a laugh, and he found himself trying to figure out ways to make her do it again._

_“You’re hardly in a position to make demands, Malfoy.”_

_He leaned forward and snatched the book out of her hands, waving it in front of her face. “Oh _really_.”_

_Hermione leaned forward and snatched it back. “Yes, _really!” _She put the volume down between the two of them and tapped the title. “See this? I found it in the Ministry library. It’s the private journal of a Hogwarts potions master. I was hoping to find something that might provide us more information on the combination of ingredients we learned were in the cauldron that exploded, and I came across this.” Draco watched as her hands opened the volume, amused by her short, unpainted nails that were covered in ink. “Here. This is what I wanted you to look at.” She pointed at a fat paragraph of scrawling text and looked up at him with a triumphant smile. “See?”_

_“Not in the least. Your hand is covering everything.” He pulled the book out from underneath her fingers and held it aloft, narrowing his gaze while he read and then re-read the hand-written recipe. “This can’t be right.”_

_Hermione’s brow wrinkled as she watched him. “What do you mean? It matches perfectly.”_

_Draco pinched the bridge of his nose before placing the book down between them again. Few people knew how skilled he was in potions_–_ most of his classmates assuming his high marks in the subject were solely due to his relationship with Professor Snape. But he was a master potioneer in his own right, having studied in Poland after the war and getting certified prior to joining the Auror department. Hermione was one of the few who was aware of his proficiency._

_“The ingredients match, yes. But look here. The recipe requires the casting of a specific spell during the production of the potion.” He looked up at her as she leaned over with him, her hair brushing his cheek. He resisted the urge to inhale, instead slipping behind his occlumency while he refocused on the text. “This cast requires preparation as well.”_

_Hermione frowned and looked up, turning her head to him. Their proximity was almost palpable; he could feel her breath on his face. She blushed and leaned back. “Right, well, what kind of preparation? I’m not familiar with the spell.”_

_Draco swallowed and closed the book before looking down at his feet. “It’s dark magic, Granger. I haven’t…obviously…ever - well, I’ve seen it cast. Before. During the war.”_

_“What does it do, Draco?”_

_She never used his first name, but he was too focused on the purpose of the spell and what it implied to allow himself to linger on the meaning behind it. _

_He didn’t want to answer her question._

The pounding in his head woke him before his alarm, and with a grunt he rolled out of bed and pushed his toes into the plush carpet beneath his feet. The Manor was cold, in more ways than just temperature, and he waited for the pounding behind his eyes to diminish slightly before standing up. His feet made no sound as he crossed the room, pulling his dressing robe from its place on the wall before shrugging into it and running his hands through his hair. The washroom held several potions in the large medicine cabinet, and he downed one before returning to his bedroom, where he grabbed his wand and exited to the hallway.

He ignored the somewhat horrified commentary of his ancestors as he made his way to the dining room, where he helped himself to a cup of tea and a copy of the morning’s Prophet. The throbbing in his head intensified when he saw the headline.

_Dark Wizards Return?_

“Bloody fucking hell.” He scanned the article, parsing out facts from embellishments. As he finished reading through the last of the article, he realized there was only one possible conclusion he could draw from the level of detail included _and_ excluded within the exposé.

Harry fucking Potter had fed the information to the paper and conveniently left out all the details of Draco’s involvement in the investigation. That would absolutely _not_ do.

* * *

“Sir, Mr. Potter isn’t available for visitors.”

Draco ignored the prim secretary outside the Head Auror’s office and threw the door open, only to find the large room empty. Gritting his teeth, he turned and stomped over to her desk.

“And where is the illustrious prick at the moment?”

The witch blushed at his language and attempted to glare back at him, but faltered after a few moments.

“He’s, erm, out.”

Draco straightened, his upper lip curling as he stared down at her.

“Are you an idiot or just incompetent? Isn’t knowing where Harry fucking Potter is in your job description?”

The girl’s chin wobbled and she looked down, straightening her parchment. Lovely, now he’d made her cry.

“He’s meeting with the Minister.” She clasped her hands in front of her and looked up. “Sir.”

Draco inhaled sharply before he spun on his heel and made his way back to the lifts. The Minister’s office was on a different floor and he could only hope that he would be able to get a grip on his frustration before making anyone else’s secretary weep.

No one who shared the lift with him made eye contact and Draco’s sneer deepened as he exited to the marble floor that housed the Minister of Magic and his underlings. His dragon-hide shoes clipped a rhythm on the tiles as he made his way to the small lobby before Kingsley’s lair. As he approached, however, he heard the distinct voice of scarhead himself.

“Yes sir, the investigation is finished.”

“Very good, Potter. Glad to have that case behind you, I imagine?”

“Indeed, sir. Grateful to be able to move on.”

Draco lay in wait until he saw the tell-tale scarecrow-like mop of black hair around the corner, at which point he stepped out directly in front of the shorter man.

“Hello, Potter.”

Green eyes glared up at him, covering the surprise quicker than Draco would have liked.

“Malfoy. What are you doing lurking about?” The other man shouldered past him in an effort to escape the conversation, but Draco spun on his heels and stepped into line with him.

“I find lurking allows me to overhear fascinating tidbits about my coworkers. Such as the one you just shared with Kingsley, for example, regarding a certain case being wrapped up.”

The slight coloring of the Chosen One’s cheeks was enough to give him away. Draco clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to hex him.

“That wasn’t the Dolohov case, Malfoy. I told you, there are still – “

Draco had had enough. He stepped directly in front of the man.

“You’re lying,” he hissed. “I saw the article in the Prophet this morning. I know you told them the investigation was ‘wrapped up’. There is only one possible investigation that would match that headline, Potter. The real question is _why?”_

Green eyes met grey and Potter’s expression hardened.

“You know why. She’s _happy,_ Malfoy. Leave her alone.” Draco’s surprise at the answer allowed the other man to shove him out of the way. “And the next time you harass me, I’m writing you up.”

Draco watched the other man disappear around a corner as he recovered from the shock of having Potter be honest with him. He’d known Potter’s reasons for choosing him to work this case and forcing him into that ridiculous vow were related to Hermione, but having him confess his motivation as though it was the most obvious thing in the world was unexpected.

“Fucking Gryffindors.”

Draco straightened his robes and remained motionless in the hallway for a few minutes, his brain working furiously to plot his next course of action regarding Hermione. As he shuffled through his options, the woman in question rounded the corner, accompanied by her new love interest. The other man smiled tightly at Draco as he stepped aside to let them pass, but Hermione’s brown eyes narrowed in concern and he could have sworn she slowed her pace for a moment before being distracted by her companion. The sharp pain in his chest was becoming too familiar for comfort, but he found he was unable to respond with a sneer or dismissal. He _missed_ her. And as he watched her glance briefly over her shoulder before disappearing from his sight, a small frown on her face, he wondered for the first time since he’d returned if perhaps, she missed him, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad folks are enjoying this little ficlet so far!
> 
> We learn more about what happened all those months ago.

_A lock of hair had fallen forward over her forehead, the wind lifting it off her face and blowing it this way and that while Draco gripped her shoulders tightly._

_“Bloody hell, Hermione. Did no one ever teach you any caution?”_

_Blinking, she looked back up at him, her expression slightly dazed. He pressed his lips in a thin line before continuing his examination of her person. _

_The explosion had thrown both of them across the windswept lawn, but he’d been much further away from her misguided experiment and had recovered first. Attempting to be gentle but also moving quickly enough to quell his own panic, he continued to pat her down, hands running over her arms and moving up her waist to her rib cage before returning to her shoulders. Grey eyes scanned her person before he gave into his impulse to run a hand through her messy locks, telling himself he was checking for head injuries._

_“Draco, I’m fine.” _

_He glared at her while he attempted to tuck the misbehaving curl back behind her ear. _

_Grabbing his wrist, she stepped into his space and placed her other palm on his chest. “I was worried I’d deafened myself for a moment, but the ringing is going away. I’m just a bit shocked, that’s all.”_

_He looked down at her, breath hitching at her proximity and found himself completely immobilized, unable to decide whether he should step away or throw caution to the wind and give into the desire to brush his lips against hers._

_“Worst idea you’ve ever had, Granger, trying to recreate the explosion.” While muttering his critique of her methods, his hand, seemingly of its own accord, had lifted up to gently trace the curve of her cheek._

_“I succeeded, however, so clearly I was on the right track.” Her lips lifted at one corner, and he was lost. _

_Before he even knew what was happening, he lowered his mouth to hers and placed a soft kiss on the edge of her smile._

_“Success is subjective.” _

_The sighing sound that his touch elicited had him repeating the action, and he continued to nibble and toy with her lips while he disentangled his other hand from her grip and cradled her jaw. His eyelids fluttered shut as she grabbed fistfuls of his jacket, and he allowed himself to move into her space so completely that his hips brushed hers as he continued to taste her lips._

_Another sigh escaped her as he traced his tongue across her bottom lip before pulling it gently into his mouth, and suddenly, as though she had awoken from a trance, her participation in the kiss was less passive and more demanding. She opened to him and pulled him closer, tilting slightly to allow for better access. Draco didn’t allow himself to think too hard, instead losing himself in the taste of her tongue and the feel of her breath on his cheek._

* * *

“Get up, Zabini.”

Draco ripped the overly decadent bedclothes from the four-poster bed, exposing the lean form of his friend. Eyes rolling at bare arse that greeted him, Draco levitated a robe from the hook on the wall behind him and dropped it unceremoniously on the other man’s head.

“What the fuck is the matter with you, Malfoy? I was sleeping.”

“It’s half noon, you ponce. And I need your assistance with a matter of utmost importance.”

Blaise shot him a dirty look before rolling out of bed with a groan. He stood, tying the robe around his waist before turning to glare at the intruder.

“Some of us have social lives, Drake. You’re interrupting my beauty sleep.”

“Use a glamour like the other ladies.”

His retort was met by a two fingered salute.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Let’s get some tea in you. I have a plan and I need your help.”

Zabini studied him for a moment before quirking an eyebrow.

“You’re serious, then. Is it diabolical?”

“Yes, quite.”

A smirk graced Blaise’s features.“I’m in.”

Ten minutes later, Draco found himself in Blaise’s dining room, helping himself to an elaborate brunch spread while his host downed a pot of tea.

“Tell me about this diabolical plan.”

Draco placed the delicate teacup down on its matching saucer and leaned back in his chair.

“Do you recall me telling you I took an Unbreakable Vow?”

“Yes, and my estimation of your intelligence has yet to recover.”

“Piss off.” Blaise chuckled but waved him on. Draco took a moment to figure out how he could disclose the information necessary to Blaise without breaking the Vow itself. “It was between Potter and I for – “ He paused. He couldn’t refer to the case in any way. “For – .”

“Work? I assumed, given I can’t see you taking it for any other reason.”

“Potter used it for other reasons.”

“What other reasons?”

Zabini leaned forward in his chair, a look of anticipation on his face, and Draco had to wonder for a moment if his friend had any inkling as to what he was about to share. He was concerned about how Blaise would respond, but his discomfort with the personal nature of what he was about to disclose was eclipsed by the desire to get what he wanted and to take Potter down at the same time.

He shifted in his seat. “I was sleeping with Granger.”

Blaise slammed his hand down on the table, rattling the porcelain tea service Draco had been so careful to treat delicately.

“I _knew _it!” He clapped his hands together like a little girl who had just been given a pony as Draco sneered in disgust. “Wipe that expression off your face, Malfoy, this is the best thing you’ve ever given me. You and the Golden Girl, going at it like rabbits. It’s delicious.” Blaise leaned towards Draco, a glint in his eye, and waggled his eyebrows. “Is she good? Does she recite history lessons while getting off? Good lord, did she dress up like a schoolgirl?”

“Enough,” said Draco through gritted teeth. He pointed his wand at him with a threatening wave. “That’s none of your fucking business, Zabini.” The expression of smug amusement on his friend’s face had him realizing too late what he’d just done. He resisted the urge to groan.

“You have feelings for her.”

“Zabini, I swear to Merlin. That’s _enough_.”

“You love her, don’t you?”

Draco felt his face heat as he struggled to muster a reply.

“You love Hermione Granger!” Blaise cackled and fell back into his chair, his feet kicking the air.

Draco sneered at his friend, putting the best look of disgust on his face that he could muster, but the truth was that Blaise wasn’t wrong. He and Granger had worked together for a year before anything happened, but by then he’d been completely head over heels for the pompous, know-it-all, bushy-haired, Muggle-born _Gryffindor._ They had been excellent partners and equals in intellect, though she took significantly more risks that he did. Obviously, no one had ever taught her the art of self-preservation, whereas he’d had it inculcated into the very fibers of his being from birth. He was the _heir to the Malfoy fortune, _learning at a very young age that meant he simply should never put himself in danger. Whereas Granger would step in front of a train if she thought it would save someone else.

Blaise was still putting on a display worthy of a lunatic, so Draco chucked a scone at him. Blaise simply brushed the crumbs off his robe while he continued to chuckle, but Draco frowned, wondering why the hysterical laughter was bothering him so much. It wasn’t _that _ridiculous to think that he might have developed a real relationship with Hermione, was it? He sighed, running his hands through his hair, before slumping in his chair. Perhaps it was.

“You’re worthless, Zabini,” he muttered darkly as his friend made a show of wiping tears from his eyes before pulling himself together and sitting upright in his chair.

“So, if you and the Golden Girl are supposed to bring peace to the wizarding world through your unholy union, why is your witch snogging Cormac bloody McLaggen?”

Draco’s fist clenched on the napkin in his lap.

“The Unbreakable Vow makes it impossible to disclose any details, but basically I wasn’t able to speak with her before I left. Those two months I was gone? I– ” He tried to finish the sentence but an overwhelming wave of nausea warned him he wouldn’t be able to.

Blaise nodded his understanding, watching him carefully.

“You were working on whatever thing you vowed not to discuss. Understood. I still don’t understand why she didn’t wait.”

“Neither did I. Until today, when Potter showed his hand.”

“And what did old four-eyes say?”

“He told me to stay away from her. That she was _happy.”_

Blaise pulled his lips back from his teeth and hissed.

“You’re telling me this was all an elaborate ruse to cockblock you?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know, Zabini. There was a bloody c–” The nausea hit again and Draco choked on his words as bile hit the back of his throat.

“Don’t vomit on my tea service, mate.”

Draco took a deep breath before once again redirecting the conversation.

“I wrote her a letter. I asked Potter to deliver it to her since my departure was unplanned and he assured me he would.”

Blaise shook his head with disgust.

“You gave Potter a love letter you wrote his best friend? Between this and the Unbreakable Vow, I’m beginning to wonder how you managed to outscore me on our OWLs.”

“Yes, Blaise, we’ve established I’m a complete nodcock. Can we focus?”

“Fine. Can’t you just…talk to her? Make her guess? She’s a smart woman, Draco, she might actually figure it out.”

Draco toyed with the lace edging on the embroidered tablecloth as he considered Zabini’s question. His behavior when he’d returned had been less than ideal. Having realized the depth of her dismissal quickly after returning from his investigation, he’d lashed out in anger and treated her with a juvenile level of disgust ever since. The thought of walking up to her and begging for her forgiveness had occurred to him on more than one occasion, but the self-preservationist in him refused to allow that level of vulnerability outside the context of torture or possibly sex. As it stood, he was fairly certain sex was off the table at the moment, and he didn’t relish the idea of having that kind of information tortured out of him.

He sighed. “You’ve seen how quickly the Vow prohibits me from speaking about…the thing it’s designed to keep me from speaking about. How do I explain a two-month absence without that relevant bit?”

Zabini contemplated his problem for a moment.

“Where is the letter? Did she ever get it?”

“I presume not.” Draco sneered. “If she had I doubt she’d have sought solace in McLaggen’s lumbering form.”

“He really is a complete twat.”

Draco appreciated his friend’s loyalty, but he couldn’t help but wonder why, exactly, Hermione had moved on to him. Was he somehow more her type? If so, then what did that say about the two of them? Had he been deluding himself? Had he heard what he wanted to hear that night, or had she meant it? What if she’d moved on not because he’d left, but because she regretted what they’d had, and he’d actually given her the out she needed?

These were the questions that had kept him from confronting her. She’d seemed so bloody happy when he’d come back. So completely over him, as though their time together, their entire partnership, was just some _thing_ that she’d done, and now that it was complete, she was moving on. As though he was merely an experiment or research project of hers entitled _How to Redeem a Death Eater through Sexual Intercourse_.

He threw another scone at Blaise in a fit of pique, this time eliciting a glare from his friend and having the baked good returned in a cloud of crumbs.

“You can’t deter me with pastries, Drake. Let’s assume Potter didn’t deliver your love letter. Did he keep it?”

“How in Merlin’s name should I know?”

“Imagine whatever you would have done, and then think of the opposite. That’s probably what Potter did. You two are like oil and water, so it stands to reason that his first option would have been your last.”

Draco frowned in thought.

“I’m not entirely convinced that’s true. The man tricked me into making an Unbreakable Vow and is purposefully keeping – ” The nausea hit again and he slammed his hand down. “Boody fuck. Talking about it is impossible.”

Blaise cocked his head.

“Are you implying Potter is more Slytherin than we give him credit for?”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying. In which case he no doubt destroyed what I wrote and replaced it with his own version.”

A low whistle came from the other side of the table.

“You have to admit, that is completely underhanded. Respectable, even.” Blaise shook his head. “No wonder she hates you.”

The sharp pain in his chest that he’d been experiencing more and more lately hit again at Blaise’s words.

“She doesn’t _hate_ me.”

“How can you be sure?”

“She asked after me the other day. And looked terribly concerned earlier, even if she was with that lumbering ox.”

“Well, there’s your answer. You don’t need me for this one.” Zabini stood and tightened his robe, rolling his eyes when Draco continued to gape at him. “Talk to her, Malfoy. Corner her and force her to listen to you. Don’t let Potter win.”

* * *

_He awoke with a crick in his neck, finding himself still on the rather uncomfortable old sofa his partner insisted on keeping. It was cat-scratched and smelled vaguely of something he didn’t want to think too hard about, but she insisted it was her thinking couch and refused to hear any of his less-than-complimentary opinions on its continued existence._

_He looked down to see the woman in question curled up against him, seemingly more comfortable than he was as she lay mostly on her side. Her snoring was endearing and he took a moment to wonder at the circumstances in which he found himself. Having been forced to watch an absolutely terrible movie on her small Muggle television, it appeared as though they had both fallen asleep, no doubt exhausted from their long day. The amount of research they’d done on the spell had left them both hungry, mentally exhausted, and in need of something Granger referred to as “brain candy”. Which, apparently for her, was schoolyard humor and ludicrous plot-lines. He didn’t know what an “Anchorman” was, but he was convinced he never wanted to meet one in real life._

_Pushing the thoughts of the horrible movie aside, he pulled his arm out from underneath her and stood, stretching his neck and moving his stiffened joints. He must have disturbed her more than he thought because she made a small noise and her eyes fluttered open._

_“Draco?”_

_“We fell asleep. Let’s get you to bed and I’ll be off.”_

_She shook her head and slowly sat up, stretching and yawning in a way that was giving Draco _ideas_. As she stood, she grabbed his hand and began dragging him out of the living room. When he realized she was pulling him behind her to take him to her bedroom, he didn’t resist, pushing all thoughts of conscience and reason aside. _

_He should stop her. He should behave like the gentleman he’d been trying so hard to be, especially around her, but he couldn’t. He wanted. He was spoiled and selfish and used to getting his way and even though he’d matured and repented he couldn’t bring himself to stop the inevitable arrival at the threshold of her room._

_She didn’t release his hand until they stood next to her rumpled bed, and as she crawled onto the mattress he watched her slender form twist, her shirt riding up to expose her lower back, her bare feet pushing underneath the duvet. She turned to him and bit her bottom lip for a moment before she committed, and patted the mattress._

_“Sleep with me.”_

_He didn’t hesitate. He crawled in after her, not releasing her gaze until he was lying on his side, facing her. She wriggled closer to him, her hands tucked beneath her head. He watched her gaze flicker down his shirt, up his neck, linger on his lips, and then meet his grey eyes._

_He ran a hand over her hair and her eyes fluttered closed._

_“Night.”_

_“Goodnight, Granger.”_

* * *

As he lay in wait in the empty conference room in the Auror department, he considered that he’d spent more time sneaking around this week than he had since sixth year when he was running back and forth between his dorm room and the Room of Requirement. With a move he’d mastered from years as a Seeker, he snatched out his arm and yanked the bushy-haired witch into the room with a squeak before slamming and locking the door behind her.

“Draco?”

He took a moment to just stare at her, his hand gripping her arm loosely as she looked up at him with an exasperated expression on her face. She had dark circles under her eyes again, like she had during the investigation, and her lips were chapped as though she’d been chewing them as was her nervous habit. Or perhaps she’d been intensely snogging McLaggen.

His lips turned down in a sneer as he released her.

“We need to talk.”

Her eyebrows raised and he saw a spark of anger flit across their whiskey color before she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Oh _really?_ _Now_ we need to talk? What about four months ago? What about four _weeks_ ago? Don’t you think a conversation would have been more productive at either one of those instances? What if I don’t want to talk, Malfoy? The only thing I _want_ is for you to explain yourself and you seem completely incapable of doing so. Every time I try to talk to you, you insult me and stomp off as though we’re back at school.”

Draco watched uncomfortably, as her anger turned into something else right before his eyes.

“You don’t say _anything_ after I– ” She broke off, looking up at the ceiling. He felt sick. “And then you just _left.”_

He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair, wondering why on earth he’d listened to Blaise.

“I wrote you a letter.”

Her eyes snapped back to his and he couldn’t decide if he was relieved or terrified to see the anger return.

“Yes. You did. Thank you _so much_ for that, by the way. It was extremely helpful, actually. It really put everything into perspective.” She pulled her wand out and muttered an _Alohomora_ before yanking it open and exiting the room, slamming it behind her.

* * *

_They’d returned to her flat after having debriefed Potter on the results of their discovery and subsequent chase. They’d found Dolohov earlier that evening, living in a small cottage in the middle of Yorkshire. They had been almost as surprised as he had been, and before they knew it, there were hexes flying, unforgivables being blocked, and bits and pieces of a two-century old cottage flying through the air with each subsequent cast. Finding himself outnumbered, Dolohov had run. Draco and Hermione had followed, navigating the forest around the cottage with little success, constantly on the lookout for reinforcements. Draco had a hard time believing the Death Eater was working alone. What they’d discovered in the investigation so far had indicated that the wizard wanted to reclaim the vision of his former lord and master, and had been working to attempt a second resurrection of Tom Riddle._

_He was clearly mad. He’d accepted the fact that the horcruxes no longer existed and Riddle was definitely gone this time around, so he’d been experimenting with dark magic and raising the dead. Potter and Granger had gone on about some zombie apocalypse and The Night of the Living Dead while Draco impatiently drummed his fingers on Potter’s desk. He’d escorted Hermione out once they’d been dismissed, not thinking about the fact that he’d let his hand linger on her lower back until she blushed and looked up at him, forcing him to release her. A brief glimpse at Potter had confirmed that he’d seen. Which explained how he found himself in her flat, arguing with her._

_“We’re partners. He can’t expect me to literally never touch you!”_

_She bit her lip, but didn’t look away._

_“It wasn’t– Draco you weren’t just being chivalrous. It was intimate and it– he –“_

_“He doesn’t approve.”_

_“No.”_

_Her direct response floored him, and he felt himself take a step back._

_“You’ve discussed it with him?”_

_“Yes. He’s my best friend, Draco. Surely you’ve told someone?”_

_He hadn’t. He’d kept his lips completely sealed because he was convinced that discussing it with anyone would jinx it. Would somehow taint it and bring into their relationship all the reasons why they didn’t work. Their past, their choices during the war, their social standing, their history, their _everything_. No, he’d been enjoying the cocoon, the reality where he was simply Draco and she was simply Hermione and nothing else mattered. But she’d _told_. And he knew, somehow, that she’d damned them by doing so._

_“I wasn’t raised to discuss these things.”_

_“I see.” Her mouth tightened and she sat up straighter and he knew what she was thinking. This was exactly _why_ he wanted to remain in their bubble._

_“No, you do not. I’m not ashamed of you, Granger.” He watched her visibly relax, but her frown remained. “My friends are opportunistic and horde information like dragons horde treasure. There is nothing good that could come out of me telling them you and I have started shagging.”_

_“Except that they’d know.”_

_He blinked at her, wondering if she was this naïve about everything, or if it was specific to ex-Death Eaters._

_“When has knowledge only ever been used for the good of wizarding kind? Information doesn’t make people altruistic, Granger.”_

_She tossed her head and met his gaze, a challenge in her eyes._

_“Maybe for you and the rest of pureblood society, but not for me. And certainly not for Harry.”_

* * *

“He definitely switched the letter out.”

Blaise nodded his agreement.

“How did you figure that out?”

Draco downed the rest of his drink before pouring himself another from the crystal decanter at his elbow. He offered more to Blaise before answering his question.

“She told me as much.”

Blaise cocked his head. “She knows he swapped your letter?”

“Not exactly, but she strongly implied that the one I’d left her made my feelings ‘_perfectly clear’ _in a voice that was dripping with sarcasm. Which would not have been the case had she read my _actual_ words.”

“What exactly did your letter say?”

* * *

_The kiss had intensified until they found themselves in her bedroom once more. The regularity with which Draco had been removing Hermione’s knickers was surprising even him, but he tried not to dwell on it too much as he walked her towards her bed, his fingers clutching her hips to his. Her hands toyed with the closure on his shirt as she attempted to disrobe him while she continued to suck on his bottom lip. He let out a small growl when her fingernail scratched over his chest as she succeeded in undoing another button._

_“Sorry.”_

_“Don’t be, love, I liked it.”_

_A soft giggle escaped her before he grabbed a handful of her arse and pushed them back onto her bed, catching himself with his other hand so as to break his fall and avoid landing directly on top of her. Taking his hint, she wrapped her leg around his hips and continued to work on divesting him of his shirt, undoing the final button before pushing it open and back onto his shoulders. Draco broke their kiss and pulled away enough to toss his shirt aside, his eyes not leaving hers as she struggled to remove her sweater without sitting up. His gaze darkened when he realized she hadn’t worn a bra and immediately pressed his chest into hers, pushing his fingers into her hair before capturing her lips in another kiss._

_Hermione moaned into his mouth as he palmed her breast, grinding his hips into hers as she arched into his hand. Her short nails clawed at his back as he toyed with her nipple and continued his rhythmic grinding, her legs tightening around his hips._

_“Draco – “_

_“Hmmm?”_

_“Remove my pants.”_

_He chuckled at the whined demand and raised up to look down at her, face framed in hair, cheeks flushed and eyes dark with passion, her lips parted slightly. She was beautiful, but what struck him most was that she also looked _happy_. The smile on her lips and softness around her eyes seemed to imply she was exactly where she wanted to be. _

_He felt his lips turn up and kissed her hard once more before standing and acquiescing to her request, pulling her pants down her legs and tossing them over his shoulder before working on the fly of his trousers. She watched him as she scooted back on the bed, running her foot up his thigh as he stepped out of his pants._

_“You’re beautiful.”_

_She blushed and her smile grew as he crawled back over her, pulling her knickers down to her knees until she took over by kicking them off. He lowered himself against her, the feel of her naked flesh pressed against his entire length making him sigh in pleasure. _

_She traced her finger over his bottom lip before cupping his jaw and reaching up to kiss him._

_“Make love to me, Draco.” _

_He stared down into her face, her whisper loud as an explosion in the quiet of her room. The light in her eyes was enchanting, as though she’d cast a spell on him that prohibited him from breaking her gaze. With a slight nod, he lined himself up at her entrance and sank into her, watching her as she arched her back, pressing her breasts up into his chest. He settled on his forearms and pressed his face into her neck, inhaling her unique scent as he began to thrust in and out of her heat. Licking and sucking at the salty flavor of her skin, he felt her arms wrap around his shoulders, clutching at the roots of his hair, her legs fully anchored behind his back as she met each of his thrusts with the swivel of her hips that he’d learned allowed her to come harder and faster than any witch he’d ever been with._

_As they continued to move together, his pace increasing so he could sink further and further into her, she began to chant something under her breath, like a mantra. It took several moments for him to realize what she was repeating over and over, but when he did, he nearly seized, overwhelmed by the buzzing sensation in his head that could only have been brought on by her words._

_He pressed his lips to her cheek and lifted his head, not pausing in his movements, to see her eyes closed, neck arched and head thrown back as she muttered three little words, over and over again._

_“I love you. I love you.”_

_Draco dropped his forehead to hers, kissing every inch of her face as he reached between them and grazed her clit. If he had thought it would result in her ceasing her chanting he’d been wrong, because with a cry she came, twitching underneath him and nearly screaming the words in his ear. He kissed her harder then, trying desperately to tell her with his actions that he felt the same but being incapable of giving voice to his feelings. Instead he held her tight as he came, breathing in the scent of her hair, whispering to her that she was beautiful, amazing, glorious._

_But he couldn’t bring himself to say it back. Like the secret of their partnership, he was worried that if gave it a voice it would somehow be ruined. Be tainted. Vanish in the morning. So instead he waited, telling himself she didn’t mean it. That if she said it again, outside of the bedroom, he would say it back. _

* * *

Draco colored before mumbling his answer under his breath.

Blaise cupped his hear and leaned forward.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that.”

“I told her – “, he paused, rubbing his forehead. “I told her I loved her, too.”

Blaise blinked and in the silence that followed his declaration you could have heard a pin drop. Several tense moments passed before Blaise stood, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Too? You loved her _too_?” His friend quickly crossed the room and stood in front of him before placing his hands on the arms of Draco’s chair. “Draco Malfoy. Did Hermione Granger _declare herself to you?”_

“It certainly appeared that way at the time.”

Blaise stood up and crossed his arms, eyebrow raised. “And you didn’t immediately say it back?”

“It was during sex, Zabini. It doesn’t mean anything during sex.” Blaise just continued to stare at him, causing him to question his own conclusion. “Does it?”

“How many times.”

“What?”

“Did she say it once, while she–” Zabini made a rude hand gesture and Draco kicked his shin. “Ow!”

“No. No she…” He swallowed as he was transported back to the night before his life fell apart for the second time in two decades. “She said it over and over. Like a mantra. Like it was her air.”

Blaise stepped back and literally fell into his chair. “Bugger me. You really fucked this one up, Drake.”

“I can’t –” Draco’s voice hitched and he quickly hid behind his walls before he spoke again. “I can’t let McLaggen have her, Blaise. It’s been four months and she thinks I just left. And the worst part is, she has every reason to think I would be that callous.” He swallowed. “I was a horrible little tyrant for most of the time we’ve known each other. I watched the woman be tortured, for Merlin’s sake.”

“Apologize. Grovel. Buy her a mansion.” His friend pointed at him. “You’re clearly head over heels for the swot and she obviously has strong feelings for you.”

“Had, Zabini.” Draco stood and moved towards the fireplace. “That was four months ago. Who knows how she feels now.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In conclusion...

_“Potter, it’s three in the bloody morning. What could possibly be this important?”_

_The dark haired Auror shared a glance with the ginger before turning back to him._

_“It’s Dolohov. You and Hermione sent him into a panic and he’s kidnapped the daughter of one of the Ministry ambassadors to Germany.”_

_Draco scrubbed his face, trying to wipe the sleep and shock away from it as he contemplated the severity of the situation._

_“Fine, let’s get Granger and we can be off within the hour– “_

_“No.” Weasley stepped forward and grabbed Draco’s wrist harshly. “She can’t know. There have been threats.” He glanced back at Potter and, with a slight nod from the bespectacled wizard, returned his gaze to Draco. “We received a letter from Dolohov– horrid, really– contained all sorts of plots. Brutal. She needs to stay here.”_

_Potter stepped forward and for a brief moment Draco was transported back to the war, where he had been intimidated and ordered to do things he never thought he’d ever be asked to do._

_“We need you to go,” he said. “Leverage your ties to the Death Eaters, try to get Dolohov to trust you so he’ll not only release the girl, but also give up his team and come in.”_

_Narrowing his gaze, Draco stared hard at the other wizard._

_“You want me to engage an ex Death Eater, who is completely rabid I might add, by myself, while he has a hostage?”_

_Weasley nodded, his expression harsh. _

_“Just flash your tattoo, or the secret handshake you two learned while dining together.”_

_Draco yanked his hand from the Weasel’s grip with a sneer while he began to calculate in his head. _

_“And you know where Dolohov is located?”_

_Potter nodded and Draco’s suspicions grew._

_“If you know where he is, why do you need me?”_

_The two other men exchanged a look before Potter turned back to him, his expression grave._

_“The threats, Malfoy, against Hermione. They’re…bad. He assumed since she was with you when you two found him in Yorkshire that she might be sympathetic to his cause. Forgiving. He implied that if she would work with you, she might work with him. When he took the girl, he left the note and said Hermione would be next unless you agreed to speak with him. To…negotiate an exchange.”_

_Draco’s inner thoughts were swirling, even though he remained outwardly calm. The thought of the woman whose bed he’d just left being used as some bargaining chip filled him with dread. _

_“How long?”_

_“How long what?”_

_Draco grabbed Potter by the collar and glared at him. _

_“How long will this take?”_

_Potter opened his mouth, but the weasel cut him off._

_“A day or two, maybe three. Not long, Malfoy. Unless you cock it up.”_

_Draco released Harry and stepped back. “I won’t ‘cock it up’, Weaselbee.”_

_“She can’t know, Malfoy.” Potter said in a near command. “I need your word.”_

_“You have it.”_

_Potter actually laughed at that before he shook his head._

_“No offense, but that’s not going to work for me. I want your word via an Unbreakable Vow.”_

_The part of Draco that had been suspicious of this entire thing roared back into life._

_“Absolutely not.”_

_Weasley grabbed him again. “If she’s suspicious, she’ll try to help. If she tries to help, he could get to her.”_

_Draco looked between the two men, gauging their seriousness. He considered legilimency, but he wasn’t skilled enough to get away with it without alerting them to his attempts. An image of Granger, underneath him, whispering declarations in his ear, suddenly pushed itself to the front of his thoughts. And in that moment he decided. _

_“I’m doing this for Granger, _not_ you two.”_

_It was done almost before he knew what had happened. He agreed to tell no one where he was going or why. Agreed to not speak of the case until it was officially closed, except to Potter. And when it was over and he’d had a few minutes to himself while Potter and the Weasel sent Patronuses off to various Ministry contacts, he handed the Chosen One a sealed letter._

_“It doesn’t break the vow, Potter. But I need you to give this to Granger for me.”_

_Potter studied the sealed parchment before accepting it. _

_“Of course, Malfoy. I’ll make sure she gets it.”_

_Days had turned into weeks while Draco attempted to track Dolohov down for the fourth time. The intelligence that Potter had provided him had been old, which became obvious the instant he approached the dingy flat. Weeks, if not months, of dust lay on every surface in the room, and Draco had kicked a footstool across the filth before he’d disapparated back to the safehouse and given Potter a piece of his mind._

_He wasn’t sleeping, wondering if Granger was worried or confused, knowing that his brief note, which seemed more than sufficient for a three-day absence, was probably increasingly frustrating and perhaps even depressing once his unexplained departure had hit the six week mark. _

_By the eighth week he’d finally found Dolohov with absolutely no help from Potter. Shockingly, there was no hostage, but whether that was because she’d been murdered weeks ago or because she never existed in the first place was unclear, although Draco would bet money it was the latter. After two months of chasing shadows, it had become obvious that Potter had misinformed him extensively regarding the details of this case. The reason why was less clear, but after weeks of trying to figure it out, Draco no longer cared. What he wanted was to be done with this, to return to his life and be released from his Vow so that he could offer up an explanation to the witch who, he knew, would be furious with him._

_When he arrived at the safehouse, a stunned and bound Dolohov accompanying him, Potter’s expression of surprise was almost laughable. A muttered congratulations was all that was offered in exchange for the captured Death Eater. With a promise to return to the office and provide a report the following day, Draco had apparated directly to the Manor, where he spent more time than he cared to admit washing off the layers of grime and fatigue he’d accumulated while chasing his own tail. He dressed and debated the best way to reach out to Granger, eventually deciding a direct approach would be best. He figured she’d changed the wards on her Floo and didn’t want to risk dismemberment, so instead he made the decision to do things the Muggle way and knock on her door._

_Standing outside her flat, on a quiet London street, he glanced down at the bouquet in his hand, plucking a leaf from one of the flowers that was less than perfect, before once more running his fingers through his hair. He was nervous and irritable as a result, so he took a moment to settle behind his Occlumency walls before glancing up at the window he knew looked out from her living room over the street. _

_What he saw made his blood run cold._

_There, in profile directly in front of the panes of glass, was Granger. And she wasn’t alone. He watched in silent torment as she laughed and allowed her male companion to steal a kiss. The bouquet slipped out of his hands as he continued to observe the scene before him, unable to rip his gaze away while a twisting pain grew in his chest as Granger’s playful kiss turned serious. _

_His lips twisted into a sneer, thoughts of proclamations and apologies forgotten as he watched the woman who’d claimed to love him proceed to let some other man shove his tongue down her throat. He felt shame wash over him as he recalled the brevity of his missive to her, a simple declaration of his affections which clearly meant nothing in his absence. He’d been right to assume her whispered words were a passing fancy, said in the heat of the moment. What he’d assumed was actual love making was clearly no more than sex. With a low growl he turned, stepping directly on the bouquet he’d brought as a peace offering and grinding the delicate petals into the concrete before disapparating directly back to the Manor._

* * *

Draco watched Granger from his position at his cubicle. Her ink stained fingers were holding a quill in what appeared to be a death grip while she scratched frantically at a parchment that was already long enough to spill over the far edge of her desk. He watched, face impassive, as her lips turned down into a frown and her scratching paused briefly. She pushed some hair off her face and looked up, catching him watching her. Refusing to look away, he held her gaze while he watched the various expressions play over her face. Annoyance, followed by sadness making the familiar ache in his chest twinge and expand painfully. Deciding he’d had enough, he stood and made his way over to her desk.

Her eyes followed his progress, suspicion and something else glinting underneath her perfectly arched eyebrows. She sat back in her chair when he paused in front of her desk and dropped her quill in its inkpot before crossing her arms over her chest.

“Can I help you, Malfoy?”

Keeping his expression neutral, he nodded slowly.

“I wanted to apologize.”

He watched her face change, confusion twisting her brow before she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

“What do you think you’re apologizing for?”

“I should have said it back. That night. Before I left.”

She blinked once, twice, three times rapidly and her posture changed, arms falling into her lap.

“What?”

Pulling another chair around so he could sit down in front of her, he placed his elbows on his knees and leaned towards her, invading her space intentionally. His eyes sought out hers as he spoke.

“I should have said it back. Because I did. I do. Still. And I can’t tell you why I left, or where I was, and I shouldn’t have written it down and assumed you’d understand, but Hermione–” he stopped and looked at his hands while he tried to reign in his emotions. He focused on his signet ring for a breath, inhaling and exhaling, and when he felt capable of saying the words he knew he needed to say he looked back up at her. “I miss you. And I was a prat because when I came back, I went straight to your flat and you were there with McLaggen, and I–”

She gasped and her hand flew to her mouth, interrupting his speech. Her eyes were glittering with unshed tears and he was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that they were in public, and she was dating another man, and maybe those tears didn’t mean what he hoped they’d meant and Potter was right and she really _was_ happy with McLaggen. He was suddenly extremely self-conscious and rose from his chair.

“Right. Anyway, I’m sorry.” He ran his hand through his hair and turned to see whether they had garnered any attention from the rest of the department, but no one was paying them any mind. “I’ll leave you be. Apologies.”

Her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

“Malfoy, where on _Earth_ do you think you’re going? You can’t just come over to my desk in the middle of the day, drop a– a– bomb like that and then stand up and run off like some sort of _coward._”

He flinched at the vehemence in her tone, but couldn’t argue with her logic.

“You’re crying. I was trying to be– “

“Oh shut up, Draco.” Hermione dropped his hand and stood, before pushing past him and walking away. He stared after her before she turned back and glared, prompting him to follow. They strode together in silence until they reached one of the empty meeting rooms at the end of the hallway. It wasn’t the same room he’d pulled her into earlier in the week, but it was similar, and he found himself following her into it like a lost puppy before she locked and silenced the room.

“What do you mean you can’t tell me where you were?”

“I mean I _can’t_.” Draco sighed and sat at the table, crossing his ankles and straightening his collar before looking up her.

She raised a brow and crossed her arms over her chest once more, giving him an opportunity to admire her form. Conservative white blouse and grey pencil skirt under bulky robes, but kitten heels that accentuated her legs. He couldn’t help the soft smile that played around his lips as he took her in, angry expression and all.

“Very well, _what _were you doing?”

“I can’t tell you that either. Not yet.”

She shook her head, lips pursed, as she looked at him with growing disappointment.

“Draco, when _can_ you tell me?”

“Ask Potter.” He sneered the name, fury surging at the thought of the Chosen One, but Hermione blinked and once more a look of utter confusion crossed her expression.

“What does Harry have to do with your disappearance?”

It was Draco’s turn to look annoyed.

“I can’t tell you.” Her face hardened and Draco knew he was losing her. “I took an Unbreakable Vow, Hermione. I literally can’t tell you.”

She blinked and chewed on her lip before leaning back against the door and raising her face to the ceiling. Several moments passed as he watched her mind work, once more reminded of how much he’d missed her.

“So, let me see if I have it right. Harry, my friend and our boss, sent you on a secret mission in the middle of the night, forced you to take an Unbreakable Vow that prohibits you from disclosing the details of your _two month absence_ to me, and has somehow managed to extend the Vow beyond your return, keeping you from explaining why you left.”

“You said he didn’t approve.” Her head snapped back down to level and her dark eyes met his light ones.

“What are you talking about?”

“Of us. You said he didn’t approve. Of us.”

Hermione looked at him for a moment and then down at her shoes, and then back up. Her eyes began to dart around the room and she paced.

“That’s impossible. Harry wouldn’t do that.”

“What did the letter say, Hermione?” She continued to pace, and he wasn’t sure she’d heard him. “Hermione?”

“It said–”she paused and rubbed her head. “You should know. You wrote it.”

He snorted. “Unless it said ‘I’m saying it back,’ I suspect you didn’t receive my letter.”

“That’s…” She swallowed and turned to him, an almost pleading look on her face. “Draco, that’s not what it said.” He wanted nothing more than to stand and hug her. To hold her while she sorted out the details of whatever had happened the night he left, or the morning after. Anticipation of the worst sort was making his stomach churn.

“What _did_ it say, Hermione?”

She walked slowly over to the chair next to him, sitting hard in the wooden seat as she stared up at him.

“It said– you said– I _thought_ you said that we’d had a good run together. That I needed to move on.”

Draco sneered and looked away.

“That dodgy fucking arsehole. I _knew_ he’d swapped them out.”

“But why? This doesn’t make any sense!”

He looked back at his witch, her dark, unruly hair defying her attempts to contain it. Even pinned back and pulled up with multiple ties and barrettes and spells, it always found a way to escape. When he was younger, her hair was a prime target of his mockery. His expression darkened as he recalled his younger self, remembering how he’d found a way to insult her even when warning her and Potter of the attack at the Quidditch World Cup. How he’d resented her intelligence, her resilience. How he’d watched her nearly hit her breaking point in his drawing room and simply stood aside, thinking the entire time on how she’d needed to fight the Crucio just a little harder and everything would be okay.

Standing, he turned away from her and walked over to the small window on the other side of the conference table.

“He’s never forgotten who I am, Granger.”

“But– he works with you. He testified on your behalf!”

“Because it was the right thing to do.” He spat out his response over his shoulder, not wanting to see her expression. “Not because he forgave me or considers me a good man. Certainly not a person he’d want to see with his best friend.”

A chair scraped behind him and a brief glance over his shoulder showed a very irate Hermione Granger staring at his back. For a moment he wondered if she was furious with _him_, but then she spoke.

“I’m going to _murder_ him.” With a swish she stormed over to the door and yanked it open. He blinked and a mere moment passed before her head popped back in. “Well? Are you coming?”

He smirked, the concerns he had about her believing in him going up in smoke. She was going to confront Potter head on.

“Wouldn’t miss it, love.”

She colored, but nodded and spun back around. He quickly followed her out the door while she made her way towards the lifts.

“About McLaggen –”

“Harry set me up with him. They play on the same Quidditch league.”

Draco still had a violent urge to murder the idiot, but he couldn’t help but smirk at the pure venom in her tone. Something about watching Hermione in a rage against Potter had lifted a heavy weight from his chest. For the first time in months, he was feeling as though this might actually work out in his favor.

Hermione nodded to the people exiting the lift before stepping in and making room for Draco.

“He’s been trying to get me to date Cormac for ages. It’s how he found out you and I had been, well were–”

“We were shagging and catching feelings, Granger. Just say it.” Her cheeks colored again, and he couldn’t help the thrill that shot through him at her complete lack of contradiction.

“Yes, well, Harry was very insistent and wasn’t accepting my excuses any longer, so it just sort of… came out.”

Draco hummed and once more glanced at Hermione, taking in her posture and her cross expression. Suddenly reminded of something Potter had mentioned earlier, he turned towards her.

“Are you happy?” She twisted towards him and he pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, a sense of déjà vu overwhelming him as he was suddenly transported back six months before the Dolohov investigation had thrown a wrench into his contentment.

“Currently?”

“With Cormac. Potter said you were happy. I want to hear you say it.”

She looked around the lift, occupied by only one other person, and stepped closer to him.

“I’ve been happier.”

His lips twitched and he began toying with the collar of her robes.

“Recently?”

She nodded and stepped closer yet, her toes touching his and their hems sliding against each other with a subtle swish.

“How recent?” His question was whispered as her head tilted up to his and he breathed in her scent.

“I–”

“Fourth Floor!” The announcement from the other wizard in their compartment startled them apart and Draco glanced behind him to see a very disapproving look on the older man’s face. Hermione blushed and pushed past him, her head down as she stepped off the lift. Draco, on the other hand, made a point of smoothing his hair and winking at the man before following her out on to the floor where Potter’s office was located.

He walked quickly to catch up with her, curious to see her reaction to the scolding for nearly snogging him at work. A small smile was playing about her lips, and he decided to take that as a good sign.

When they approached the receptionist, she took one look at Draco and her eyes widened almost comically. Her gaze darted between them for a few moments before she swallowed, electing to ignore him.

“Can I help you ma’am?”

“I’m here to see Harry. Tell him Hermione Granger is here for him, if you please.”

The receptionist scratched something down on what must have been a duplicating parchment, because no sooner had she finished scrawling “H. Granger here,” the door to the office opened and Potter poked his head out, a smile on his face.

A smile which quickly fell when he took in Hermione’s expression and glanced at Draco besides her.

“’Mione! What, erm – what can I do for the two of you?”

Draco watched her in amusement as she shoved Harry aside and stomped into his office. He quirked a brow at the secretary, who was looking at him with a mixture of horror and concern, before following his witch.

Potter closed the door behind them and sighed, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk.

“Have a seat.”

“No, thank you, Harry.” Hermione crossed her arms and glared daggers at her friend while Draco took the offered chair and propped his legs up, prepared to settle in and watch the show.

Potter removed his glasses and wiped them on his robes before quickly returning them and moving to the other side of his desk, effectively putting the large piece of oak furniture between himself and an angry Hermione.

“Good choice, Potter,” he drawled. “Very strategic.”

Harry glared at him before returning his gaze to Granger. She was currently standing behind Draco, arms crossed over her chest, her foot tapping a staccato rhythm on the floor, her magic crackling so strongly Draco could feel it from his position in front of her.

“Harry,” she said, her tone deadly sweet, “why did you send Draco to chase after an ex-Death Eater by himself in the middle of the night and tell no one where he’d gone?”

Harry’s face drained of all color and he opened his mouth to speak before Hermione cut him off again.

“And why, _after_ asking him to risk his life alone and without his _partner_ did you force him to take an Unbreakable Vow so that he wasn’t able to explain his reasons for leaving to anyone who may be wondering why he _completely and abruptly abandoned them?”_

Harry looked down at Draco, startled.

“How is it that she knows all this and you aren’t dead?”

“‘Brightest Witch of Our Age.’” Draco shrugged, as though it was obvious.

“Focus Harry!” Potter jumped at the sound of Hermione’s voice. “Please tell me there was more going on than what it seems. Because what it _seems_ like is that you were presumptuous enough to make _decisions_ about my life that weren’t yours to make. In a very underhanded, snake-like, and quite unforgivable manner.”

Draco looked up and behind him. “Former Slytherin, darling, try not to be insulting.”

“Zip it, Draco.”

“As you wish.” He turned back to Harry and smirked at the expression of horror on the other man’s face.

“I’m waiting, Harry.” There was an almost imperceptible quavering to her voice making Draco realize that for all her glorious anger, it was covering up a significant amount of hurt. If Potter made her cry, there’d be hell to pay.

Harry looked between the two of them before letting out a resigned sigh.

“Fine. I sent Malfoy off because I was worried about you.”

“Harry! How could you?” Draco winced at the volume of the shriek.

“It’s _Malfoy_, Hermione!” Harry sputtered. “You can’t trust him, we both know that! Merlin knows what he had up his sleeve!”

Draco slid his feet off Potter’s desk with a thunk, getting both heads to turn towards him while he glared at the other man across from him.

“I’ve worked here for nearly five years, Potter. I have made reparations. I have apologized to nearly everyone I’ve ever wronged, including Granger. If you distrust me so much, then I resign.” Draco stood abruptly, turning to leave the room but was stopped by a hand on his chest.

“Wait.” He raised his brows at Hermione, but gave a slow nod. Her eyes moved from him back to her friend, and she dropped her hand before stepping around him and approaching the desk.

“’Mione–”

“You broke my heart, Harry. When you made him leave? In the middle of the _night_ no less! And when you swapped his letter out. I was completely _heartbroken_. And then you threw Cormac at me like he was supposed to fix everything? I’m not _happy_ with Cormac.” Her voice cracked and she threw up her hands, blinking at the ceiling. “I can’t believe you would do this to me. I can’t believe you didn’t trust _me_ enough to believe me when I told you how I felt about Draco.”

Draco watched Harry crumble under Hermione’s heartfelt confession. Had it been under other circumstances he might have felt sorry for the other wizard, but as it was, he felt far too smug to have any room for pity.

Hermione straightened, her eyes glittering with rage.

“Release him from the Vow. Now.”

Potter looked between the two of them once more before he reached into a drawer with a resigned sigh and pulled out the file labeled “Dolohov”. Opening it with one hand, he reached across his desk with the other and grabbed an elaborate stamp which he then pressed into the front page of the case file. When he removed it, the case file read “CLOSED” in red ink, and Draco felt a swirl of magic encompass him before it dispersed into the air.

“Thank you.” Her voice was like ice. Potter opened his mouth, but she put up a hand to stop him.

“No.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t want to hear a word from you. In fact, I may never want to hear from you again.” Potter’s face fell and he began to awkwardly toy with the edge of the parchment. “I need time to sort things through. And you need time to think about what you did.” Hermione turned away from Harry and approached him. “Shall we?”

Draco held out his arm and she took it, allowing him to escort her out of office.

* * *

It was several hours later before they returned to her flat, having spent much of the afternoon catching up. He’d told her every detail of his time during his two month absence, watching her get increasingly angry at her friends for their ridiculous plan. And while he couldn’t help but appreciate her fury on his behalf– on _their _behalf– he hoped that she’d be able to forgive Potter and the Weasel in time, though he absolutely wasn’t going to encourage it at the moment. They deserved to squirm a bit and he told her as much.

When they broached the topic of McLaggen, Hermione was brisk in her dismissal of it as an issue. Regardless of what he’d observed upon his return, Hermione assured him she hadn’t actually slept with the git. Draco watched in amusement as she penned a brief, but very polite, letter to the man informing him that she thought they’d had a good run, but that she didn’t think it was working out. They’d dropped it by the owlery on their way to her flat, and Draco couldn’t help but think that perhaps he was taking too much enjoyment from the heartlessness of her dismissal.

But as he now found himself sitting in Hermione’s flat, a glass of red wine in his hand and the witch curled up against him as though they hadn’t lost four months of time, he certainly wasn’t going to complain.

“I missed this,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

He put his glass down and plucked hers out of her hand with a smirk.

“As did I. But as much as I love a good merlot, and while it would be terribly remiss of me not to make some comment about this horrid couch, I have other things on my mind.”

Hermione chuckled and adjusted her position so she was facing him.

“Do you, now?”

He cupped her cheek with his hand and brushed his thumb over her freckles before he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

“I do.”

Nodding her agreement, she pressed her entire body against his, lips nibbling and biting, and Draco let her push him back into the arm of the sofa, admiring her crawling form as she moved over him and into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him as she gripped his hair and slanted her mouth over his. She rocked her hips against him and he groaned as he slid his palm up her back, pressing her chest into his before tangling his fingers in her curls. Tugging her head back slightly with his grip on her hair, he broke the kiss and began trailing his lips down her neck, sucking on the spot behind her ear that he knew drove her wild.

“Never do something that completely idiotic again.” She panted as he bit down on her earlobe.

“As you wish, love.” He licked the shell of her ear before returning to her neck.

“I’m serious, Draco.” Hermione pressed against his chest and forced him to look at her. The concern in her expression surprised him and began to rub soothing circles on her back.

“I promise.” She swallowed and held his gaze for a moment before lowering her lips to his once more. He kissed her with everything he had, pouring all the frustration and loneliness that had accrued over the last four months. As he fisted her hair and dug his fingers into her hip he felt her nails bite into his neck, her knees pressing into his thighs, both of them forcing the anguish they’d been through into the intensity of their touches, their breaths, their sighs across each other’s skin.

With an abrupt twist he spun them, nearly throwing her down on the couch before pressing on top of her. She moaned underneath him and he broke contact just long enough to yank up the hem of her skirt, pushing it above her hips.

“I can’t wait, Granger,” he said, lowering his forehead to hers. “I need to be inside you.”

She nodded and quickly moved her hands down to help him disrobe, tugging his belt so hard he was sure she’d ripped one of the loops off his trousers. She released him so he could pull down his pants, and with a final, graceless tug, he yanked her knickers to the side.

As he sank fully into her welcoming heat, they both stilled, their frantic movements forgotten as they became reacquainted with the feeling of each other. Hermione shifted to take him deeper before capturing his gaze, her fingers running over his lips and around his jaw.

“Make love to me, Draco.”

At the echo of her request all those months ago, he felt the last shard in his chest shatter, the constant hollow ache he’d carried for the last four months filling with something warm and overwhelming and _hers_. He kissed her then, hard, his tongue pressing into her as he shifted his hips and began to thrust. He wouldn’t last, he knew, so he slipped his hand between them and began to press on her clit while she moaned into his mouth. Their coupling was fast and intense and as he felt Hermione tense under him before she let out a lengthy groan, twitching underneath him. He slid his hand back up her body, entwining their fingers as he thrust a few more times until he also shattered, his breath coming in gasps against her lips while he positioned himself so as to not crush her.

She opened her eyes and he smiled down at her, brushing a lock of hair off her sweaty forehead.

“I love you, Draco Malfoy.”

He looked into her face and settled his hips closer to her, drawing a brief gasp from her lips.

“I love _you_, Hermione Granger.”

Her eyes met his and she stilled.

“Do you?”

Nodding, he kissed her once more.

“Very much. These last for months have been misery.” A thought occurred to him and he raised up on his arms once more. “I don’t want to presume, but are we-?”

“Yes. Very much.” She smiled at him. “Will you stay?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> I do hope that you weren't disappointed by Hermione's reaction. I see her as someone capable of a pretty massive amount of forgiveness. 
> 
> *MUAH*


End file.
